take this burden away from me and bury it before it buries me
There is the steady rhythm of rain outside, and this is when Elena sits down to write.
Dearest Po,
I could not help but think about you today because right before the rain fell, I saw the most feather bedded with the flowers, it reminded me of your own feathers.
How are your daughters? Elli talks about twins and a forest in her sleep often, could these be your girls? I ask her upon waking, but she never has any recollection of the dreams. At least I think they are dreams…
How is Delumine? It feels like ages since I have been there, Terrastella keeps me busy, as does the Hospital. I have a patient that can no longer speak, but every day I go she offers me a smile and an autumn leaf. It has been ages since I have seen fall leaves, I have no idea where she gets them. Every time I bring it home and add it to the garden. I do not know what it is supposed to mean, but I find comfort in the expected.
Elli is watching a spring thunderstorm outside. Our tulips have died, as they do in late spring, but she is excited by the prospect of planting daisies. She has already began painting them and we have yet to even plant the seeds. Maybe when the rain passes?
Sunflowers,
Elena
She ties the letter to the leg of the white dove and when the thunder passes and the rain is a quiet drizzle, she takes off to the North, to Delumine. To Po.
so take away this apathy bury it before it buries me
here is a break in the rain when the letter arrives, the dove flying in with a streak of sunlight to illuminate its wings.
It feels like a promise, the way the clouds hold back their tears long enough for him to unbinds the letter. He is surprised by the gentleness of the morning, of the sunlight, of the way the new spring growth looks like peal silks draped by a loving hand over the capitol. Few things are so gentle anymore.
He reads the letter with a soft smile (that is perhaps equal parts sad as it is joyful. It has been so long since he last had a bird upon his window sill to feed, and he fetches it a handful of seeds as thanks.) And when he reaches the end it takes him a moment to double check that there is no hidden warning, or tragedy, or violence between the handwritten lines.
He knows he should be glad he does not find any. He is glad — he will be glad — he is determined to be glad when he finds the dove a place to rest and settles down to write his response. The small statue of a stellar's jay, wings still outstretched in flight, watches over his words.
His letter flows like petals caught on a wayward wind carrying a dozen promises, and wishes, and dreams back to Elena.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
My dear friend,
There is a story I was told once about gifting autumn leaves. They say it is a sign of letting go, of being willing to go to places the wind would like to show you. To give someone an autumn leaf is to say you have found peace in whatever it is that plagues you.
I hope your patient has found their peace. It too often is in short supply.
Delumine is not so quiet as it once was. It settles a part of my heart to see children playing in the gardens again, and our scholars walking freely between the trees on their way to and from the garden. I believe we are finding a new sense of normalcy, a new peace of our own. We held vigil with the Night Court for a spring bonfire festival, and it has given me a new hope for the future.
Sometimes I think it is only a dream, and that I will soon wake up to a new terror. I know it is wrong to think this way, but with the things I have seen — each night the same fears return.
My daughters have told me about Elliana. I think they like her — but it is hard to tell which things they like or dislike. I think sometimes they speak a language only the two of them understand. Perhaps one day we can arrange a get together for the three of them.
Attached are some seeds of passionflower and lavender (assuming the owl does not eat them.) Both of them will bloom in summer, and their petals when steeped together may help with your daughter’s sleep. They also are lovely flowers to grow.
take this burden away from me and bury it before it buries me
Whatever she expected when she awakes in the morning, it is not the owl that appears at her window, letter tied to it with practiced precision that could only be from one individual. Elli clamors beside her wanting to read it as they settle for breakfast. Azrael is with them today, Elena casts a smile his way before reading. She holds another smile and only begins to write in return when Azrael takes Elli out to play with the sword Nic made her.
Dearest Po,
That offers me great comfort. I am afraid my days of receiving autumn leaves is beginning to come an end as she has taken a turn for the worst. Though, no matter how weak she is, I still receive a leaf. I believe I should have enough to fill a forest.
Oh, Elliana was wishing to attend. I hope to see you when we go. Perhaps we may meet near the forest? I have something I wish to ask of you. We will be hosting a Tulip Festival here and I hope you can spare your duties if but for a moment to come and enjoy the spring flowers. There is truly nothing like it, I promise you.
Terrors, Po? What dreams are you having, what haunts you? My grandmother, as ancient as she is, told me dreams are often where life’s greatest adventures and horrors that do not fit in our world go. It comes when we sleep because only then can our minds fully open to the possibilities. Be it good or bad. I am sending along a remedy: Dream Dust. It is something I have been working on. It has Chamomile Flower, Schisandra Berry, and root extracts from some of Terrastella’s local plants. Take it before you sleep at night, and try to clear your head. I have tried it with Elli, but she says the taste is far too bitter, like rotting leaves.
Elli has already taken a look at the seeds. She is eager to plant them. In truth, I hope we do not need them, that come the warm air of spring these nightmares will subside. It is difficult to see you child in pain. Your girls, if you don’t mind me asking, having they shown a talent for any gifts?
Did I ever tell you about the time my cousin, Lilli, and I put flowers in everyone (and I mean everyone’s) hair? We spent the entire day braiding them into their hair, even our most stoic cousin, Alvaro, wore a crown of roses that day. We paraded the entirety of the ancient valley for no one but ourselves. Then, when we finished, we floated the flowers upon the lake. I watched until every last flower sunk out of sight. I like to imagine a garden grows still down there, built upon the laughter of the day, our happiness brighter than sunshine.
Your turn. Tell me a happy memory.
Sunflowers,
Elena
so take away this apathy bury it before it buries me
ll day he has felt that unnameable ache in his soul again. He can feel it splintering, can feel each bit of it being pulled in different directions. And he is there in the middle of it, refusing to let go of any of them, and feeling as though he is losing them all in the process.
He stands on the edge of the plains that mark the border of Delumine and listen to the trees whispering behind him. And the only thought that comes to his mind when he looks at the haze shivering on the horizon is this: inevitable. The fracturing of his heart was inevitable. The fate of it was rushing towards him faster than he would care to admit.
But he turns. And despite the aching that increases with every step he puts between himself and the desert, he returns to the court.
It is a relief to find the letter waiting for him like another piece of himself returned home.
As he carefully collects the letter and unwinds it, it feels like are still some soft parts left of his soul left. And he lets it hang there like a stone in his belly, like a reminder to guard those last remaining pieces. He reads her letter with a gentle smile, as he walks through the halls. And it is in the garden beneath the outstretched arms of a flowering dogwood that he settles to write her back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
My dear friend,
I did not realize how badly I needed to hear from you until I opened your last letter. Your words, your stories, have lifted my spirits. Please, come to our festival if you can and I will meet you there. Nothing would make me happier than to see a friend again. Come, come, come, and before the season ends I will go to you and see your tulips in return.
I am sorry to hear about your patient. It is both an honor and a burden to be there for the sick; you are strong, Elena. I cannot imagine being in your place.
It is the desert. Orestes has gone and I can hear it crying out even from here in Delumine. The earth is aching and I — I am aching, with it. I ache for my daughters and their growing pains. I ache for Thana and the wildness of her that does not belong here. Have I told you that I was born in Solterra? That, too, brings me pain. I feel torn in too many directions, Elena. It is shredding me like the bark of a eucalyptus tree.
I hope you are right about Elliana. My daughters — their magic is wilder than mine. I do not fully understand it yet, but it as much a magic of life as it is of death. I suppose it is fitting in that sense. I do not know if they can control it; worse, I fear they are in perfect control. What of Elliana, and her gift?
The first time I came to Terrastella I was only a boy. I believe I was only a yearling when they placed me in my first foster home there (and oh! how different it was from Solterra; how much lighter the air felt there in your Court.) I was prone to wander, even as a boy, and on one of my wanderings I came across a small steller’s jay whose wing had been broken. It took some time, but I was able to bring him to the healers and begged them to help. In a few short weeks he was flying again, and after that he rarely left my side.
I wish you could have met him. Seeing him fly for the first time is something I often reflect upon.
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